


Time Heals All Wounds

by MarshmarrowSans



Series: Tumblr Requests [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Pining, Reader has depression, SKELLY BOY'S FIRST KISS, Shy Sans, sans has depression, so much fluff u will fall asleep in it like a pillow, srsly he's like a soft nerd asking out the head cheerleader or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 18:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12259632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshmarrowSans/pseuds/MarshmarrowSans
Summary: Sans couldn't ask for a better friend than you.  You laugh at all his jokes, no matter how bad, you don't get on his case for being habitually late, you have an attitude that makes him smile, but you don't let it stop you from being sweet to him, and you're brilliant, too.  He wouldn't trade your friendship for anything.Then, one night, he lends you the support you've always given him, and in the morning, a small, ornate box and a hand-written note make him realize how he really feels about you.





	1. Foreshock

**Author's Note:**

> Another anon on Tumblr requested Sans realizing for the first time that he's in love with the reader. I was actually planning out a little story for this already, so way to read my mind, anon! :) I'm planning on this one being 2 chapters, plus a little epilogue thingy down the road~

Your laugh was the first thing Sans knew about you. He heard it from a room away before he ever saw your face, preceded by the sound of an electric mixer hitting the surface of a plate, interlaced with Papyrus' own NYEH-HEH-HEH!ing, and followed by a tedious clean-up of Mettaton-pink cookie dough from all over the kitchen. You were Papyrus' weird new human friend before that. Then he learned your laugh. Then your name. And then you became Sans' weird new human friend-- the one with a kind heart, a humorously unfitting resting bitch face, and exactly the same dumb pun-and-nihilism-based sense of humor that he had. You were his sunshine.

It was hard to reconcile that image of you with what he was seeing right now, so hard that it was painful to think about your smiling face, something that usually made him happier than almost anything.

"... I'm just so sick of being me. In case you haven't noticed, I never even had anyone before I met Papyrus and the rest of you. I've never had so much as a real friendship, and I've never known why. It's always just me. Here. Working towards nothing. Just working to do something other than sit here dying. And it's been that way my whole life. I've been alone since my sorry, self-isolating ass was in diapers, basically. And I'm gonna be alone again. I just know it."

Your breakdown came like an earthquake: unpredictable, but inevitable, without prelude, and absolutely devastating. This was the most miserable Sans had ever seen you. He should have known what you never outright told him-- that you shared something a lot less fortunate than just your sense of humor: your depression. And the worst part? Sans didn't know how to get through to you, even though he felt like he should. He was fluent in logic, and... still at a Google-translate level in emotion and sympathy a lot of the time. But the nice thing about that was that he was, in fact, making a concerted effort to learn the language.

"i know it feels that way right now. and it sucks, pal. believe me, i know. but look around you. you're surrounded by people who love you."

You made a show of looking around the otherwise-empty apartment you lived in, then gave him a condescending glare.

"... not literally right now in this very room. i mean, i care about you, obviously, but so does everyone else. me, paps, undyne, alphys, tori..." He had more names to list off, but you were just shaking your head at him. You weren't listening.

"You've all got better things to do than deal with me," you mumbled, as if in a self-deprecating trance. "You'd probably rather leave right now and go have fun with Papyrus or Toriel if you didn't have to feel guilty about leaving me here."

Sans was struck with white-hot indignation at your sudden and personal accusation. "excuse me?"

"You heard me. You can all act like you care, but I know how it always turns out. I'm just going to be alone again. All of it's going to go away again, somehow. Including you."

Sans' pupils disappeared in an instant. It was the first time he ever looked at you like that, his snowy, friendly pupils yielding to a cold, angry void, like a candle had been extinguished. His voice became deeper, losing that calm quality that seemed an integral part of his speaking voice. "you'd better take that back right now. " He wasn't joking. And, as bad of a place as you were in, you weren't too out of your wits to sense how upset he was with you for saying that. You sniffled and wiped your nose, averting your gaze from his as if it would make his disappointment go away. Out of sight, out of mind.

"... Okay, fine. I'm sorry."

He blinked a couple times, and his pupils faded back into visibility. "alright. keep talking. just don't go telling me blatant lies, alright? i don't like being lied to."

That did it. With the one-two punch from his momentary disappointment in you and his genuine compassion for you, you burst out sobbing all at once, forgetting any modicum of restraint. "I'm... broken, Sans! I'm surrounded by people who are trying their best for me, and I'm supposed to be happy, but all I can think about is how much it's going to hurt to lose it all."

Awh, hell. Those words hit him like a freight train. What you'd just described was a feeling he understood all too well, and it was a feeling he would never wish on anyone else, a feeling that could so easily take any amount of happiness and cast it in a constant shadow of doubt and hopelessness, so that you could never be truly happy, not until that fear went away. He whispered your name and pulled you into a hug. You accepted it needily, your fingers curling into the back of his jacket. His head came to rest naturally at your chest, and the wild thrumming of your heart sent the strangest, most tragic and most beautiful sound resonating through his skull with each beat.

"... I don't... I don't wanna be like this! I just want to forget how miserable and lonely I am. Like when Alphys showed me that ridiculous anime and we couldn't stop laughing. And when Papyrus tried to use that electric hand mixer on cookie dough that was on a plate. And when I met you, and-and... pretty much every second we've spent together, until today."

Sans didn't know what to do. Fuck, he just didn't know what to do for you. He didn't even know how to help himself when he got into a rut like this. He was crying, and he felt bad, because he didn't deserve to cry right now, you did. He thanked his lucky stars that he was a quiet and subtle crier, his few tears soaking unheeded into your shirt. "hey, i know... i know. hell, things are never gonna be perfect, and it might take a really long time and a whole lot of trying... but there will come a day that you can say all this miserable shit is behind you. i promise. and you know how i feel about promises."

"But how can you promise that?" you demanded. "How can you be sure? What if things never get better? What if I feel just like this, over and over, and it never gets any better?" You asked him again, even quieter than before. "How can you be sure, Sans?" He could hear in the vulnerable waver of your voice that your question wasn't a challenge... it was a plea. You wanted to know that he was as certain as he was making himself out to be.

"... 'cause it's happening to me."

"... Huh?" Maybe you didn't hear his mumbled confession. Maybe you couldn't believe what you were hearing. Either way, he wasn't about to hold back from you. He'd trusted you enough to tell you about resets months ago. He could trust you with his feelings.

"it's happening to me. for real. take it from me, buddy, feelings like that don't go away just because things are on the up and up for a little while. this might sound weird, but things didn't get much better for me when us monsters first made it to the surface. for me, it took a whole lot of things going right for me, a whole lot of effort, and a whole lot of time," he emphasized. "now, i think you've got the first two going for you. like i said earlier, you're surrounded by a bunch of us monsters who just adore you. and as for effort... honestly, someone who can try as hard as you do is really rare."

A bittersweet huff of laughter escaped your lips. "I don't know exactly what you mean by that, but thanks..."

Sans tilted his head back to smile up at you. "what i mean is, i see you trying. all the time, every day, in everything you do. and if some loser who's prone to giving up like me can beat something like this, well... you're ten times tougher than i'll ever be. it's got nothin' on you."

You smiled back down at him, and he could hardly handle the emotion there. The pain, the tiredness, the gratitude, the hope, all of it, all at once. He couldn't bear the sight of you in pain, and couldn't face the fear of giving you that hope, only for things not to work out like he told you they would. Instead, his eyes followed the path of the heavy tears still rolling down your cheeks as you responded to his encouragement. "Geez, Sans. I'm not squaring up and fighting my depression and self-doubt behind the 7/11 after school. But... thanks."

He let out a hearty laugh at that. God, even when you were as low as he'd ever seen you, you still cracked him up so much. "ahhh, what am i gonna do with you? then again, what would i do without you? you've helped, you know. make things better for me. you're there for me more than you even know."

"Well... you were here for me today. So this makes us even." You took a deep breath, and as far as he could tell, you were calm. Your body relaxed. You melted back into his embrace, and when he pressed his head back into that comfortable spot against your chest, your heart sang its one-of-a-kind tempo much slower than before. It felt to him as if the two of you stood there hugging each other for an eternity, and yet, he felt a flash of disappointment when the moment came to a quiet end and you pulled away from him, putting yours hands on his arms instead, then letting go of him altogether. "God, that was such a shit show. I'm really sorry."

"don't be sorry. you needed a friend. there's nothing shameful about that." His eyes crinkled with sudden mirth. "you should be sorry for that mess you and papyrus made in the kitchen, instead."

"Oh my god." You covered your face and giggled at him. "Sans that was months ago, are you still bitter about it?"

"pffft. please. you think i, of all people, care about a mess being made in my house? nah. i just love teasing you about it. and besides. if you hadn't done that, i might never have met you, right?" Sans' smile softened, from mischievous to genuine. "so i'm just joking with ya'. you've actually got absolutely nothing to apologize for."

You huffed, wiping your cheeks dry with your hands. "Sans, you know, you're making it really difficult for me to stay all dark and gloomy."

He tried not to show the thrill of excitement and the rush of relief he felt hearing that from you. "heheh. turns out that was my master plan all along. now i have you right where i want you. is there anything you wanna do instead of being dark and gloomy?"

You pursed your lips thoughtfully. "... I could go for a bacon cheeseburger... a full order of fries. And a milkshake."

"damn. rough day much?"

"Shut up, I still remember you winning that eating contest at the summer festival."

"dude. you're gonna judge me for that? after i split the prize money with you and everything? wow. just wow."

"Whatever, Mr. 52 Hotdogs."

His pupils were some of the brightest white you'd ever seen them, bright enough to leave little spots in your vision when you blinked. "just admit it already, you thought i looked cool. so you want a fast food feast."

"Hell yeah I do. Ooh, and maybe..."

"some halloween movies on netflix?" he finished your sentence.

"Okay. Sans. Are you sure your whole reading-people thing isn't actually thinly-veiled telepathy? Or have you secretly been one of these time travelers all along and never told me?" You pinched his cheek. He grinned and playfully swatted your hand away.

"no offense, but you're not that hard to read when it comes to stuff like that. i think i know my best friend well enough to know that as soon as it's october, she wants to bust out all the skeleton movies and show me. and you know what?" He reached up and pinched your cheek right back. "i love the sound of that."

You chuckled, grabbing his hand to move it, but then just deciding to hold on to it for a moment. He didn't pull away. "Impromptu sleepover?"

"impromptu sleepover."


	2. Wavefront

You and Sans had an...  interesting sleepover arrangement.  You see, the problem was, you only had one bed, and it was too small to hold two people that, as you put it, 'weren't banging.'  However, one of you couldn't take the bed and leave the other to sleep somewhere else without feeling guilty.  You also didn't have any sleeping bags.  And your couch wasn't big enough to hold the two of you, either.

 

Luckily, you had the fact that you were both capable of sleeping wherever the hell you wanted going for you, so your procedure was to grab some blankets and pillows and settle right down on the carpet together.  Sure, it made it so that you were watching TV from a bit of an odd angle, but it let the two of you be close to one another, and that was the smallest and most meaningful comfort for both of you.  Sans was glad to see you there when he woke with a start at some odd hour of the night, with whatever dream had roused him escaping him like sand through the gaps in his skeletal hands.  He didn't know if he should grasp at it as it passed, didn't know if he wanted to.  All he could remember was fire, and your tear-streaked face.

 

No.  He didn't want to know the context.  It would only upset him and make him even more paranoid for your safety than before.

 

His bones creaked a bit as he turned on his side to look at you, resting his cheek in his hand.  You were still asleep.  You looked so peaceful there.  Neither happy nor sad.  Just peaceful...  and a little pissed off, but that was just your face.

 

Boy, he hoped you wouldn't wake up right now.  This would look insanely creepy, him staring at you with a big ol' grin on his face.  _Was_ it creepy?  His eyes started to feel heavy again, and he yawned.  Maybe just a little, but he knew you.  You'd make some joke about it and laugh, and it'd make him laugh, and really it'd be no big deal.  He blinked a few times, his view of you becoming blurry.  Well, he didn't have to watch over you all night.  He could shut his eyes for a minute until you began to stir and his strange habit of staring at you would be considered marginally more socially acceptable.

 

When he opened his eyes again, you were gone.

 

With his voice hoarse with sleep, he sat up and mumbled your name.  Nothing but an empty pile of pillows and blankets remained where you'd been sleeping the last time he saw you.  He stared at that empty space for a moment.  Well...  you were probably making breakfast, then, right?  He couldn't smell any food, but... maybe you were making something like cereal.

 

He couldn't lie to himself about what he was feeling.  He felt sick to his stomach on his way to the kitchen to check for you, and when he found it empty, he got an ice-cold feeling in his gut.  Shit.  He should never have gone back to sleep.  He should've stayed awake to check on you as soon as you woke up.  He could just imagine you waking up to him next to you, splayed out and snoring like a moron without a care in the world, after everything you'd told him the night before...

 

Ugh.  Something about that made him want to curl up in a ball and disappear into the floor.  He pulled out his phone and sent you a text.

 

_dude, is my snoring that bad?  where u at?_

Please respond.

 

Please, _please_ respond.

 

...

 

It said you were typing. 

 

He didn't put his phone away until your message popped up on the screen.

 

_You didn't see what I left you?  I put it in the pocket of your jacket, ignoramus!  You're always sticking your hands in there so I figured you'd find it in two seconds._

He actually laughed with relief.  Thank god.  He'd been imagining all sorts of terrible things.  He wanted to scold you for scaring him like that, but...  in hindsight, it seemed like a total overreaction, which was doubly embarrassing for a guy like him, who was known for his calm attitude.  He didn't want to admit what he thought might have happened to you.  What he thought you might have done.

 

He really, really didn't want to give you any ideas.

 

_you can, y'know, wake me up and give me things in person, like literally anybody else would.  i'm not a bear.  i'm not gonna eat you if you wake me up._

_Sometimes, with your appetite, I'm not too sure ;3_

_:D_

_where are you though?  seriously._

_Grocery store.  Read the letter and DON'T JUDGE ME.  I just thought it'd be sweet._

Right, so.  Apparently you put a letter, or something _with_ a letter, in his pocket.  Now that you mentioned it, he did feel some odd shifting around in there that wasn't just old snacks and receipts.  After extricating some wrappers, candy bars, a few G and a whole lot of fast food receipts, he found what he was looking for.  You'd left him a folded-up piece of paper with your handwriting on it, and a beautiful little box about the size of an ashtray that he was certain he'd seen in your room before.  He held it in his hands and turned it over to examine it.  It looked either intentionally or naturally antiquated, with golden colors making intricate patterns and swaths of sea green paint cutting through the designs in pleasant contrast.  On the lid was a painting of a butterfly, its extended wings the same sea green color as the accents on the rest of the box.  Thinking back, he was pretty sure you used to use it to hold an old necklace you never wore.  But now you were giving it to him...?  He was eager to see what you had to say about all this, so, holding the box in his right hand, he unfolded your letter with his left.

 

_Hey Sans._

_I'm sorry for accusing you yesterday of being temporary and not really wanting to be around me._

Of course.  It was just like you to start off a letter with an apology.  He smiled down at the words on the paper like he would if they were coming from your lips.  Honestly?  He'd totally forgotten about that already, so, apology accepted, you sweetheart.

_I woke up this morning and I saw you just chilling next to me, and something about you being there made this switch in my head, and...  suddenly I'm asking myself, what if this isn't all temporary?  What if this is the real deal?  The thought of that makes me so happy, I'll do anything to achieve it, AKA to always be a good friend to you, and to everybody else that's been so kind to me._

You _were_ , though.  You were already a good friend, to everyone, and especially to him, and you didn't even have to try, it was just the way you were.  There were so many rare and special things that he had felt with you that he'd never quite felt with anyone else-- trust, understanding, boundless enthusiasm, and most importantly, a sort of peace with being himself, and sometimes, being vulnerable.  He always felt like it was okay to _not_ be okay around you.  You were his best friend, like he always said, with no exaggeration.  He wanted to hold you by the shoulders and tell you that.

 

_I'm done being stuck in my own past, telling myself that the way things used to be is the way things always will be.  I want to start moving forward in time. And when I do, I want you to come with me.  I haven't forgotten what you told me about the resets.  I think about it every day.  You didn't say much about them, but I know you must be scared._

You were damn right he was scared.  He was more-nightmares-than-regular-dreams levels of scared.

 

_Scared of things going back to the way they were before things got better._

You understood.  You really understood him, without him having to torture himself telling you in words.

 

_Scared of going backwards in time._

Jesus.  A couple droplets of water distorted the ink of the words he had, luckily, already read through.  It took him a moment to realize they were his own tears.

 

_And so I thought this might help you.  Maybe this is just dumb and sappy and it won't help you at all, but I was thinking  you could hold it and look at it and watch time go forward whenever you're worried about things being set back to how they were before.  If not, then at the very least it's a gift from your friend to show that she really, really cares about you._

He crumpled the paper a little in his hand.  He was so glad you weren't there right now, seeing him like this.  He couldn't stop crying, and even though you were the one person in the world he would choose to cry in front of if he had to, he'd still rather not.  There was something embarrassing about you being able to make him weep like a baby just by writing words.  Damn you and your nice, beautiful words, and your nice, beautiful soul.

 

_"Your friend in time~"_

You'd signed your name at the bottom with that hasty cursive of yours, like a doctor, and then the completely-unnecessary date.  Leave it to you to sign off with a _Back to the Future_ reference.  Sans sighed, lowering the paper.  On the one hand, he totally tear-stained it and wanted to get rid of the evidence.  But...  on the other hand...  he never wanted to let go of this.  He tucked it back into his pocket for safe-keeping.

 

Now he understood.  That pretty little box you gave him wasn't the gift.  There was something inside it.  He probably should have thought of that on his own.  Everything you'd said in your letter fell into place when he thumbed open the lid.

 

It was a silver pocket watch, small and convenient, obviously meant for him to tote around in his jacket, where it would always be easily accessible.  The front was engraved with stars of various sizes.  Slowly, he picked it up in his hand, as if it were made of glass, as if the smallest perturbation would soil it.  The slender chain dangled delicately over his fingers.  He turned it over...  instead of a design, there were words engraved on the back.

 

_Time heals all wounds._

He never would have believed those words when he was in the underground, or even for awhile after monsterkind made it to the surface.  But now, looking down at your letter and the watch, reading those words you had no doubt had to custom-order on the back of it...  He felt like he could believe it.  If what he was feeling these last few months wasn't healing, he didn't know what was.  He was just like you, just starting to ask himself what it might mean for him if this wasn't all temporary after all.

 

There was a switch on top of the pocket watch to flip it open, and he did so in a silent daze, completely lost in his thoughts.  Even the face of the watch seemed custom-made for him.  It was a tiny, tiny model of the solar system, with graceful silver hour, minute, and second hands.  He could feel its ticking on his fingers, now that he could match it to his view of the second hand moving from second to second, constant and unimpeded.  
  
_Tick, tick, tick, tick..._

 

Watching time move heedlessly forward, second by second...  he couldn't remember the last time a moment felt so real to him.  He always felt so unattached from everything, like a nomad going from home to home.  Everything was temporary, everything always changed, nothing was permanent, nothing was certain.  Nothing until this.  Nothing until...  you.

 

_Tick, tick, tick, tick..._

He wasn't sure why, but that soothing, mechanical ticking and the periodic vibrations that coincided made him think of your heartbeat.  It made him think of when you hugged him, last night and all the other times before that.  It made him think of resting his head against you, feeling you there with him, smelling that nice smell you always had on you that he couldn't name, but could guess was some kind of body wash or perfume.  You were real, and when he was with you, he was real, and every little moment you had was real, in a way so strong that it felt like even a reset couldn't tear it away from him.

 

_Tick, tick, tick, tick..._

 

No...  this wasn't at all the first time he felt comforted like this.  It wasn't the watch that made him feel, for the first time in so, so long, that things were going to turn out alright in the end.  It was you.  Every time he was around you, he forgot that his world felt so temporary and inconsequential, forgot that he was so unhappy.  He just didn't realize it until now.

 

_Tick, tick, tick, tick..._

And there was something else-- something he had never acknowledged before, not even to himself.  Maybe he couldn't have even recognized it, not until he realized that you were one of few things that could make him feel like he was living a normal life, one that wouldn't be snatched away from him in a heartbeat.  Or maybe he'd just been in denial.  Too scared to take something already so simple and perfect and turn it into something complicated and new.  Terrified, even, of losing you, or damaging that special bond you had, all because he was feeling something you probably didn't feel for him in return.

 

_Tick, tick, tick, tick..._

 

...  He was in love with you.  Oh, stars, he was so fucking in love with you.

 

He didn't know when it happened, he didn't know how.  He knew for sure that it didn't happen just moments ago when he saw the pocket watch you gave him.  That was just a catalyst to his realization of something that was already there.  Suddenly, he could look back and see all the times he should've realized it before.  When he felt like he could tell you about the resets, when you talked to him for an hour over the phone to calm him down from a bad dream, when he felt like his soul was dancing in his chest every time he saw you and Papyrus getting along, the way your laughter made his soul rush every god damn time he heard it...  You were kind, and caring, and sweet, and beautiful, and even if you were depressed, he knew as long as he was there to support you, it wouldn't be so bad, for either of you.  Cheering you up took him away from his own problems.  As long as you were both there to support each other, you could both get through this-- you through your loneliness, and him through his fear of resets. All at once, he knew he wanted to protect you, and cuddle you, and cheer you up, and kiss you, and _all_ of it, and he knew he'd wanted it for a long time.  You were everything to him.

 

You opened the front door just a little too loudly and a little too suddenly.  All Sans knew was that he felt like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't.  He felt as if the moment you looked at him, the moment you saw him clasping that pocket watch like a lifeline, you would know exactly what was going through his mind, and...  what if you didn't like it?  He knew how this could turn out.  It would make things awkward, and your relationship would never really be the same again.  You might feel sorry for him, wish that he felt differently about you than he did in reality.  That was the last thing he wanted-- you pitying him and trying to get him to move on.  He'd rather act like nothing had changed and quietly crush on you forever.  Apparently he'd been pretty good at that so far.

 

"Hey Sans.  I, uh, got you some breakfast.  Well, I need to cook it first..."  You approached him with a grocery bag, then slowed to a stop as you got closer to him.  "...  You okay?"  
  
He looked up at you.  He wanted to tell you everything, and he wanted to keep his stupid mouth shut.  He wanted to kiss you, and he wanted to run away.  "'mfine.  it's just really nice.  this watch you gave me, and...  the reasoning behind it.  i really appreciate it."  Everything he said fell so short of what he wanted to say.  It sounded so blasé coming out of his mouth, when nothing could be further from how he felt.  He clumsily tried to elaborate.  "i mean, nobody's ever...  given me something like this.  people have given me gifts, for my birthday and stuff, but that's more like joke books.  i mean, this, it's..."

 

You put your hand on his shoulder, and god, he knew it didn't mean anything, but it felt like everything.  "It'll help you, right?  When you get anxious over it?"

 

"absolutely."

 

"Good."  You smiled at him, and it was all he could see.  Then, like in a dream, you were touching his cheek.  He couldn't even begin to imagine how blue his face must be right now.  He wanted to stretch up and kiss you.  It was all he could think about.  It felt like the right moment.  Why were you touching his cheek?  You rubbed your thumb under his eye a couple of times.  Oh...  right.  He'd been crying.  "Oh man.  Don't tell Papyrus I made you cry.  I would get such an earful from him."  


Sans laughed, in a soft, vulnerable way you'd never quite heard from him before.  Then he wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you.  He hugged you tighter than ever before, stretching up to rest his chin on your shoulder, and you leaned down a little to give him easier access.  He mumbled your name into your hair to get your attention, feeling like his soul was guiding his actions more than his mind.

 

"Yes, Sans?"

 

_i think i love you._

_i think i've loved you for a really long time._

_tell her._ say _it._

_she deserves to know.  whether she feels the same way or not doesn't change that._

_just be honest with her, she's your best friend._

_she'd do it for you if she were in your position._

_it's just her._

_everything is gonna be alright._

"...  Sans?"

 

"thanks.  this watch is really cool and i'll, uh, be sure to use it a lot, even when i'm not having some kinda episode."

 

_coward._

"Heh.  No problem, little guy."  You went from wiping his tears to lightly pinching his cheek.  He half-heartedly swatted at your hand, an equally half-hearted smile on his face.  He was so mad at himself.  He knew he should be honest with you...

 

"how many times do i gotta tell you not to call me that?  how would you like it if i started calling you big girl?"

 

"I would LOVE it, because you're my best friend, and I would know you meant it affectionately."

 

...  But he couldn't yet.  Not if it meant even the smallest possibility of letting you go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand we're leaving it off there, folks~. Does reader like him back? Well, I think you of all people should know the answer to that ;)


	3. Tell Me You Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're BACK, BITCHES! I originally had a totally different idea for how to end this one, but y'all tempted me into this instead. Enjoy!

It was the best night of Sans' life.  He'd never seen you so happy.

 

It was no big life event, no major milestone.  All that had happened was you gave a stellar performance at a presentation you'd been dreading for weeks.  He had been there in the audience to support you, of course.  He was the only one who could tell how nervous you were.  But then you fixed your eyes on him, and he flashed you that relaxed smile of his, and...  it all went away.  You knocked it out of the park.  And you were ecstatic about it.  Now he was walking you home from the event, you dressed to the nines and him looking pretty lack-luster in comparison with his same old hoodie and shorts, in the chilly evening air with crickets chirping a symphony all around you.

 

"Articulate, Sans!  They called me exceptionally articulate!"  You laughed, hopping up on a wooden ledge enclosing some flowers and walking along it like a tightrope.  "When have I ever been described as articulate, let alone EXCEPTIONALLY so?"  You seemed to have boundless energy, seemed to be itching to put it into something.  He almost envied you, but more than anything, he just felt happy for you.  He could practically feel the strong, healthy hum of your soul inside your chest.  What he wouldn't give to see it, that beautiful soul of yours that made his own soul throb and sing...

 

He stood at your side, but down on the sidewalk, and offered you his hand.  For balance, of course.  You didn't hesitate to accept his quiet offer.

 

" _i_ think you're exceptionally articulate," he offered, softly and matter-of-factly.  You just scoffed at him.  
  
  
"Oh yeah?  Bitch, where?  When I was trying to say either 'fooey' or 'shucks' in front of Frisk and ended up screaming 'FUCKS!' and Toriel scolded me?"

 

He grinned so wide at the memory.  "that's a certain kinda articulate.  but nah.  i was actually thinkin' about that letter you gave me.  uh, a few months ago."

 

You blushed and seemed to falter a little.  He held on to your hand tighter.

 

"don't fall."

 

"Don't tell me what to do."  You recovered, and slowly began to smile again, but in a bit more of a bashful way.  "...  Anyways, that letter.  I feel like we never really talked about it.  Or the other thing I gave you.  Have you needed to use it?"

 

Sans paused for a long, long moment.  He didn't want to worry you.  
  
"...  Hey, it's alright.  If you have, then I'm glad that my gift is being put to good use, and if you haven't, I'll still love you."  


God, he loved and hated it when you did that.  His soul was too stupid to remember that you only meant it as a best friend kind of thing, so it never failed to skip a beat when he heard that from you.  But at the same time, he knew how lucky he was to be hearing that from you at all.  So he loved it more than anything, and hated it just a little bit, but he hated himself for hating it at all.  He confused the hell out of himself sometimes, so much he almost forgot to speak.  In the end, he decided honesty was better than secrecy.

 

"yeah.  sometimes when i'm really sad, and it's like i can't trust in anything.  and also sometimes when i'm really happy and i can't believe that things are going my way.  it's crazy how much it helps.  thanks a bunch." he chuckled softly.  "see?  i'm the inarticulate one here.  you give me this amazing thing that...  seriously helps me through some issues that nobody else has even tried to address.  and all i can think to say is thanks.  i dunno what else to say.  but i hope you know i mean a lot more than just thanks.  i don't know how to repay you."

 

You got the biggest, dumbest smile on your face, and he knew right away that you were up to something.  You had a face like that meme cat with the knife pointed at it.  He almost dreaded whatever fresh hell you had in store for him.  "uh oh.  not sure i like that impish look right after i offered to repay you for something big.  what's up?"

 

You brought him to a halt by jumping down from your perch to the spot right in front of him on the sidewalk.  "I know how you can repay me."

 

Oh, stars.  You were so close to him and you were holding his hands in yours and your whole face looked even more beautiful than usual when you smiled like that.

 

"okayyy...?" While you were wondering if you were weirding him out a little, he was busy being completely and utterly distracted by your eyes and your lips.

 

"How 'bout a kiss, bone boy?"

 

...

 

"...  huh?!" Sans was legitimately unsure if he heard you correctly, or if this was some kind of dream, or even a glitch in time.  A glimpse into an alternate universe where you actually wanted him to...?

 

You held your hands behind your back, pursed your lips a little, and bounced on your heels, but you repeated yourself loud and clear.  "Dude, I know you don't have lips, but come on.  I've shown you Disney movies."

 

"no, i, i know what a kiss is, i just..." He clutched his chest, willing his soul not to just spring out and bare itself to you, not to prove beyond a doubt the strength and resilience of his feelings for you like it wanted to.  "help me out here.  are you being serious right now?"

 

You quirked an eyebrow at him.  "Are _you_?"

 

Great.  Now he was blushing like the idiot he was.  He let go of your hands to pull his hood over his head in quiet embarrassment...  but you just smirked at him and carefully, lovingly removed it again.

 

"Alright.  Fine.  I'm serious," you confessed.  "What about you?"

 

He couldn't contain his soul anymore.  It glowed in a distinct heart shape in the center of his chest, cast shadows of his ribs through his shirt, gave everything away without him having to say a single word.  But he said it anyways, breathless with anticipation.  "yeah..."

 

You moved in a little, then stopped, cracking a doofy smile.  He knew just how you felt.  He was feeling it, too, that simultaneous anticipation of something so new and so incredible just on the horizon, mixed with his love for you, the love that had been there for as long as he could remember, the love that made you his best friend, made you feel like home, made him smile when he thought about spending the rest of his life with you.  It was that love for you that made him stand up on the tips of his toes and tilt his head back to offer his teeth to you.  It was no glamorous Hollywood kiss, that was for sure, considering one party was lipless.  But he didn't give a damn right now, and you gave negative damns.  You cupped his cheeks in your hands, moved the rest of the way in, and began to kiss him.

 

Whether he ever admitted it to you or not, Sans had spent a lot of time over the past few months thinking about what it might be like to kiss you.  Some days, when you had a bit of an attitude, he pegged you as a bit of a hard kisser, one who would dig your fingers into his skull and kiss him like your life depended on it, like you were stealing the breath from his non-existent lungs and leaving him gasping.  Some days, when you were sad, he imagined that you kissed slowly and longingly, that you might pull him into your arms as your lips danced against his teeth and hold him in a silent plea to never leave you alone.  Other days, when you were happy, and especially when you had some special moment together as best friends, he just imagined you kissing him with a smile on your lips, a smile to match his.  Those theories were all a little right, but all a little wrong.  It was no chaste kiss whatsoever.  You pressed your lips to his mouth straight on at first, but then tilted your head and kissed him like you meant it.  It was a firm and confident kiss, one that betrayed no hesitation, and you stroked your thumb over his right cheek, and you _were_ smiling, he could feel it every time you tilted your head.  He knew it was bad kissing etiquette, but he couldn't stop himself from opening his eyes a little to look at you.  He couldn't see anything but your softly shut eyes, but god, you were the most fucking beautiful thing he'd ever seen.  It took him a moment to realize that he was just standing there like an asshole with his hands hovering over your waist.  He gently rested his hands there, the warmth of your body just reaching his fingers, just enough to bring him total clarity.

 

Holy shit.

 

He was experiencing his first kiss.

 

He was kissing his best friend.

 

He was kissing _you_.

 

He found himself kissing you harder at that realization-- pulling you closer to him, leaning eagerly into your touch, letting one hand roam up almost to your shoulder while the other roamed down to your hip.  It felt like all those months of friendship unraveling all at once, or maybe blossoming was a better word-- yes, blossoming into something entirely new and beautiful, and that best friendship was still there, it always would be, nothing could ever make him stop thinking of you as his best pal.  But it gave way to something else, too: the kind of love that set his soul ablaze.  You were everything at once to him.

 

When you pulled away, neither of you could tell, but you both had the same expression.  Wide-eyed and smiling, in disbelief, in awe.  In love.

 

"Holy shit," you spoke first, in a low whisper.

 

"the holiest of shits."  Sans grinned up at you, a familiar smile with a rare blue blush.  And then he stretched up to give you another kiss.  This one was much shorter, because after a couple of seconds, you both got a case of hysterical giggles and had to pull away from each other.

 

"Hehehe!  Damn it, Sans."  You hugged him and rested your chin on top of his head.  He nuzzled gratefully into your chest, feeling like he could just purr like a cat when you rubbed between his shoulder blades.  "Alright.  Fess up.  How long?"

 

"oh geez.  i mean, i realized it when you gave me the pocket watch.  but, at that point, i was already..." he trailed off.  He didn't want to come on too strong.  He didn't want you to freak out if he dropped the L-bomb that was on the tip of his tongue.  But he looked up and saw the hope in your eyes and knew that it would be alright.  "...  i was already in love with you.  and i was too far gone to remember when i must've actually, uh, fallen for ya'.  but if i can make an educated guess?  considering you're you, 'mpretty sure i must've started falling for you the day i met you."

 

You laughed and gently pushed him away from you by the shoulders at that.  "Sans...  sweetheart.  You are SUCH a sap.  But what's important is that I love you, too.  In case you couldn't tell by the passionate makeout we just had."

 

He huffed out a soft chuckle that produced a single cloud of mist in the night air.  "we did just make out."

 

"Yep."  
  
  
"that's a thing that happened."

 

"I hope I can count on it happening again."

 

"you bet your sweet ass you can." 

 

One moment, Sans was smiling up at you, happier than you'd ever seen him, wrapped up in your embrace.  Then he took a step away from you, then turned his back to you and shoved his hands into his pockets.

 

"...  Hey, is everything alright?"

 

_Tick, tick, tick, tick..._

 

He could feel the steady rhythm of the pocket watch in his hand without even taking it out of his pocket to look at it.  He shut his eyes, he focused on it.

 

_Tick, tick, tick, tick..._

 

It was strong.  It was constant. It was certain.  You were strong.  You were constant.  You were certain.  This was reality, and nothing could take it away from him.  But in the end, it was your voice, not the watch, that brought him back into the present.

 

"What's the matter?  Talk to me."

 

"it's just...  the happier i get, the more scared i feel.  the more i have to lose, if..."  he sighed, shaking his head.

 

"...  The higher you are, the further you have to fall," you agreed quietly.  
  
  
"...  yeah."  He turned back around to face you.  "but it's stupid.  i can't live my whole life in fear of that."  He reached out and held your hands, just like earlier.  "...  i'm ready to start...  moving..."  
  
  
"...  Forward in time?" you completed his phrase.

 

You smiled at him.  He smiled back at you, reached up and tucked some of your hair behind your ear.

 

"yeah.  forward in time.  with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, this was my favorite story to write so far, which is probably why it ended up being 3 chapters when 1-chapter stories are more my style.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit us up at marshmarrowsans.tumblr.com for imagines, requests, or just to chat! The whole reason we made these accounts was to get more involved in the fandom, so we'd always love to interact with you guys :)


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